I see shapes and colors and physical beauty in eyes that worked, more or
less for years beyond yous brother Carl.
On Friday last, I went to a funeral of my godmother at the old Catholic
Church where I spent most of my time in the sixties. We had lunch at the
Catholic school where I went first through eleventh grade, though I spent
most of my junior year literally trying to get kicked out of that hellhole
so I could go to public school full time.
Regardless, as with many a hietus of this much traveled person I did meet
and get reacquainted with many whom I haven't seen, for months or even
decades.
One person was a classmate of mine from the parochial school whom I haven't
seen since high school, at least 1971.
she came up to me and we talked for a great while. I didn't date too many
from St. Mary's (re: The Viking Raid, for a variety of reasons but mostly
because I was hot for them, but they were just like my sisters and that
wouldn't do). I was really deeply in love with this lady's younger sister
who was beautiful inside and out and a few years younger than I. Sadly she
died of breast cancer in the early 1990's.
Oh, I digress here in my nostalgiaa.
But, the pleated uniforms of these long legged lasses at St. Mary's rolled
up to make instant mini-skirts always was a turn on to anyone with male
hormones and inclinations.
Trudy my former classmate was one of eleven girls andtwo boys. She was the
one who came up to me. She was gorgious too. I mean really though very quiet
and shy. I told her that I was attracted to her in high school and while
flatterred she said, "I've heard that from so many, why didn't you bring it
up then?"
I said, "Because I was totally intimidated and just knew I would be shot
down. Besides we went to school in small classroms from First Grade through
the 12th and I just thought of you too much like a sister.""
She said, ""I understand. I kind of thought you were hot in a skinny sort of
way, but really remember you most for being a class clown and taking on the
nuns and trying to be, well political I guess against the injustice of it
all, especially Sister Thomas Mary. Remember when she flat out punched you
in the face?"
And we talked about the time that this Mother Superior, a distant cousin of
mine byby the way, terrorized and didn't educate people including Trudy who
wasn't a trouble maker like me, but who also was literally assaulted by that
bitch of a principle.
And then I said, "Did you know that Sister Thomas Mary's brother was the
first person to die in WWII from our small city? And I think she was just
all fucked up by all of it and from her cloisterred life?"
I couldn't believe that I was sticking up for the terror of our past, or
sort of so.
Back to the future, or the past with eysight II was a voyeaur, I guess in a
sort of teenage way and did love those shapely girls with those long legs at
St. Mary's visually.
Trudy, my classmate was a brunette with brown eyes and quite shapely, with a
beautiful face. Her older sister, Chris (also alluded to in my partial
novel) was a long legged, pretty blond, very Peggy Lipton type but with
breasts.
Her, younger sister was a petite, totally beautiful, inside and out,
cheerleader and rather petite.
God help me I loved and lusted after them all, mostly silently except for
Mary whom I dated but really couldn't go beyond second base because of that
sister like thing.And here is the blind sort of thing getting back to your
ref here: They still areimages in my mind, visually imprinted in my visual
cortex as they were 45 or so years ago. Really they are. I joke about it
with my classmates etc.
But, they look just as they did back then to me.
And in this case I'm not lying to et in to their pants or whatever either.
It is really true.
Anyway I'm also happy when folks suceed at whatever they want to do. Trudy,
while by our hug and kiss still is beautiful in my mind is also the mother
of six and a grandmother. She has been as happily married as one can be by
her account for 45 or so years to the same man, another graduate of St.
Mary's, slightly older than we are.
I'm totally happy for her and guess that means I did love her in the best
sense of that term.
But, it was really wied at all the pain she and not me pointed out at some
abuse at our Catholic school. I shook that shit off. But, it stuck with her
to this day.
Now, I'm not ragging at parochial school per se here, for I know that
teacher abuse can be all sorts of things. But, Trudy, was and is still in my
opinion traumatized by teacher abuse (not sexual in this instance, but
rather, bullying by teachers and outright physical assault without cause) to
this very day.
She told e of the story when Sister Thomas Mary came after her for no known
reason in the hallway trying to hit and beat upon her and how she defended
herself with a pencil jabbing it back and forth in self-defense against
adult aggression.
Then she laughed as I reminded her of the time this same nun sucker punched
me in the hallway right in front of her and I just laughed at the crazy nun,
or when Sister Thomas Mary got real pissed off at me in religion class and
tried to whack at my face with the buckle end of a film cannister canvas
belt.
I just dodged and weeved and did a rope a dope while laughing at her in
front of the class.
I got a three day suspension for that one...Grin....
Then Trudy said, "It kind of made me like you or even hot to see you taking
on this abuse that way."
I said, "Youknow lots of girls from high school told me that later. Why
didn't they tell my insecure ass that back then? (Or very similar words to
that effect.)"
She reached out and gave me a hug and kissed me on my lips. Nothing sensual,
but very meaningful nonetheless.
We talked some more and she found out I was still the iconoclast and street
fighter and rebel without a clue. She was just as beautiful, and somewhat
shy and maybe damaged as she eever was; the latter never trully realized
about her at the tie way back then.
And old loves never die and old wouldns never fully heal and old shit is
just that. But, allare beautiful in my mind to this day; those Catholic
girls I mean.And, I'm not just saying it, I mean it with all my heart, soul
and remaining hormonal impulses.
Why? Well because I prefer it so.
----- Original Message -----
From: "Carl Jarvis" <carjar82@xxxxxxxxx>
To: <blind-democracy@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
Sent: Monday, November 21, 2016 2:39 PM
Subject: [blind-democracy] Re: Why after 70 or 80 years, I don't belong on
Face Book
We blind folk do tend to forget that the world has changed since we
lost our eyesight. In March of 1965, I awoke in a hospital bed unable
to see. At the time the 1965 cars were fresh off the production
lines. Skirts were still just above the knee, some months before the
miniskirt, the Beetles were called mop heads because of their shaggy
hair, which was shorter than my current length, and for the most part
people's hair came in blond, brown, black, red, or shades of grey, not
the rainbows of today. Styles also have changed dramatically. For
myself, jeans and any old sweat shirt gets me by. I rely on Cathy to
dress me for public appearances.
There are many more visual changes that would probably knock me off my
feet if I were struck sighted. So here I sit, still seeing the world
in 1965 shapes and colors.
Carl Jarvis
On 11/20/16, Roger Loran Bailey <dmarc-noreply@xxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote:
I am reminded of an incident that happened to me recently. It was right
after I had that medical appointment that I told you all about because I
liked the doctor and the informal atmosphere. After that appointment I
stopped to use an ATM. The person driving me waited in the car parked in
a loading zone at the curb. When I got back in the car she said, "You're
out of style." She had been people watching while I was using the ATM.
The first thing I thought was that she was making some kind of comment
on how I was dressed and I was about to say something to the effect that
I don't give a shit about what is in style. But she continued and what
she meant was that every single person she saw on the street was either
looking at their phone's screen or had it up to their ear. Obviously
there have been a number of changes since I lost my eyesight more than
28 and a half years ago. By the way, an aside to whoever the
seventy-year-old was who wrote this piece. Donald Trump is seventy years
old and he can't stop himself from constantly tweeting.
On 11/20/2016 12:29 AM, Richard Driscoll wrote:
*WHY AFTER 70 YEARS,*
*I DON'T BELONG ON FACE BOOK *
*Should I Really Join Facebook? *
*(Priceless)*
Read it all the way through!
It's a good laugh AND really quite true!!
A good laugh for people in the over 70 group!
When I bought my Blackberry, I thought about the 30-year business
I ran with 1800 employees, all without a cell phone that plays
music, takes videos, pictures and communicates with Facebook and
Twitter.
I signed up under duress for Twitter and Facebook, so my seven
kids, their spouses, my 13 grand kids and 2 great grand kids could
communicate with me in the modern way. I figured I could handle
something as simple as Twitter with only 140 characters of space.
My phone was beeping every three minutes with the details of
everything except the bowel movements of the entire next generation.
I am not ready to live like this. I keep my cell phone in the
garage in my golf bag.
The kids bought me a GPS for my last birthday because they say I
get lost every now and then going over to the grocery store or
library. I keep that in a box under my tool bench with the
Bluetooth [it's red] phone I am supposed to use when I drive. I
wore it once and was standing in line at Barnes and Noble talking
to my wife and everyone in the nearest 50 yards was glaring at
me. I had to take my hearing aid out to use it, and I got a
little loud.
I mean, the GPS looked pretty smart on my dash board, but the lady
inside that gadget was the most annoying, rudest person I had run
into in a long time. Every 10 minutes, she would sarcastically
say, "Re-calc-u-lating.” You would think that she could be nicer.
It was like she could barely tolerate me. She would let go with a
deep sigh and then tell me to make a U-turn at the next light.
Then, if I made a right turn instead. Well, it was not a good
relationship...
When I get really lost now, I call my wife and tell her the name
of the cross streets and while she is starting to develop the same
tone as Gypsy, the GPS lady, at least she loves me.
To be perfectly frank, I am still trying to learn how to use the
cordless phones in our house. We have had them for 4 years, but I
still haven't figured out how I lose three phones all at once and
have to run around digging under chair cushions, checking
bathrooms, and the dirty laundry baskets when the phone rings.
The world is just getting too complex for me.
They even mess me up every time I go to the grocery store.
You would think they could settle on something themselves, but
this sudden "Paper or Plastic?" Every time I check out, just
knocks me for a loop. I bought some of those cloth reusable bags
to avoid looking confused, but I never remember to take them with me.
Now I toss it back to them.
When they ask me, "Paper or plastic?" I just say, "Doesn't matter
to me. I am bi-sacksual." Then it's their turn to stare at me with
a blank look.
I was recently asked if I tweet. I answered, No, but I do fart a
lot."
P.S. I know some of you are not over 70. I sent it to you to
allow you to forward it to those who are. I figured your sense of
humor could handle it....
We senior citizens don't need any more gadgets. The TV remote and the
garage doorremote are about all we can handle.
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--
*Fight Organized Crime - Fire Congress*
*"Don't cling to a mistake just because you spent a long time
making it."*
